Our lives are filled with seasons,

with leaves growing on branches,

withering in the fall.

i found no answers while looking in your eyes

you found no comfort listening to my lies

let the world pass us by

like leaves dying in the fall

decaying on the forest floor.

What do you dream about 
when you wake?

In the morning when you wake

There are no words left at the end of a day

there are only results of actions

left to judge our tasks.

In the morning when you wake

the words have come back

again, ready to do

whatever must be done to

make it through the day.

Howling Beast

the beast is howling deep

into the late hours

a sound mixed with pained

cries of

why not me

why not me.

beast

you are always

screaming

but I never see you

doing anything

to change

anything.

Deal

I'LL SELL YOU MY DREAMS 
IF YOU GIVE ME YOUR SOUL

The Cruelty of Routine

We have let ourselves find comfort in 

familiarity.

It has bred a complacent heart in me

that cares only for its routines.

This is dangerous.

This is deadly.

This can only bring about one end.

Whose hand gazes upon

and turns the wheel?

There is a change breeding

in my blood, 

in my lungs,

in my heart

that must succeed.

A Collection of Short Bits

pot-shot hopscotch
_____
god is a liar and so am i
____
this incongruity is killing me
_____
the years are carving away

my skin. Oh, how the mask

changes.
_____

sometimes we don't care for the cost

of our actions and do them anyway.
______

when our emotion is severed from the action
we let the violence of our hearts reign.

______

what we have known of each other and
what we know now are two different worlds.
_____

King of Hearts you are always lonely

in your castle waiting for the Queen

of Spades who left so long ago.

wrecks

it is always too late

to save what has

already been

destroyed.

The Means of Definition

what are you attempting to convey by the

s      p     a     c     i     n     g

of words or by their

infrequentratesofcompressionwithorwithoutpunctuation

?

Is symmetry a stated goal

or

are jagged lines an acceptable means

of provoking

critical thought?

I'm afraid it is all highly

irrelevant.

Hardly anyone will ever ask you

about your aesthetics...

but time and time

Again

EVERYONE

will want to know

How MUCH

you make at

WHAT you

DO.

RE: Time

time can be best described

as the means by which we

keep track of the order of

the passing moments.

locationlocation

OH...

there you are.

I've wondered

where you've

gone, how

you've been.

Good Thoughts

Like two particles changing spin

across the infinite expanse,

sending these vibrations

to you.

How We Change, How We're Always The Same

I can't hide these thoughts anymore.

There are tears, this is an end.

Dreams never die, they only change

and so have we.

There is grief in you, in me.

Lets live these last days together through.

Together forever...

yes, its true.

fill the emptiness with meaning?

how easy it is to say that,

how hard it is to make it so.

The Density of Meaning

All dressed down and everywhere to be.

_______

Must I hide all meaning behind dense metaphor?

_______

empty the bottle

fill yourself with life once more.

_______

I want to scream

meaning clear

from the roof

into your window

and say

say

say

everything

I've ever needed to

say.

One Hot Afternoon Nap (Draft 2)

         I went to sleep in the middle of the afternoon to the sound of her voice singing to me.

         I could feel the heat grow as the fan recycled the hot air. A helicopter had been combing the neighborhood looking for a man they would find locked in someone's home. He was a petty thug like all the other wannabe badasses with rap sheets. When the police cornered him he emerged from the house with a woman in her mid-40's in his arms. He brandished a pistol and pressed it against her temple. Guns were drawn. Shots were fired. A few bullets hit him in the extremities while another pierced the flesh just below his heart. The fatal shot blew off a chunk of his skull. They both collapsed to the ground. Red oozed out across the ground like cherry syrup. She was never quite the same after that afternoon.  Covered in blood and brains she sobbed in gasping breathes with his body next to her. She had been grazed in the leg by one of the officer's bullets, but otherwise physically unharmed. The story would later make the rounds of the local news affiliates. 

         When I woke up the shooting had passed and the record had finished. The afternoon was still hot as police taped up the crime scene. At least one person would have that afternoon seared into memory.

"Don't Wake Me Up Cause I Will Want It To End When I Open Up My Eyes."

#1
The Illusion of Content.


#2
The Contentedness of Illusions.


#3
Its All Tears In The Shower.


#4
The Lingering Memory of You Wakes Me From My Dreams.

A Common Exchange

It starts out simply when you let a few

words out.

You hear them emerge from you in

varying degrees

of clarity.

That sound you hear

happens to be your own voice.

It always a little different

than what you hear in

your mind.

There will be some gesticulation

in order to emphasize a critical or

emotional point.

The person standing across from you

will take that moment as an opportunity

to respond.

You'll wonder if you look as ridiculous

when you speak.

You'll conclude that you couldn't possibly

look like that.

It is never all darkness


nor 


Is it ever all light.

minor complications

a heart beating out of time

is always much cause for concern.

intense attraction to members of the

opposite sex can lead to fluttering 

feelings and a redness of the cheeks.

this intensifies when the desired one

is out of bounds due to prior

emotional commitments. 

at some point something must happen

on the side of the one looking to gain the

others affection. perhaps something is

awkwardly said in a moment of alcohol

fueled courage. that course is never 

advised. if the topic is broached while

sober the chance for success increases.

when the subject is broached there can

only be rejection or acceptance. at that

time new complications arise.

Hero's & Villains

We all take turns playing the roles of
Hero & Villain.

The night is a story that writes itself.

The mess becomes part of the process.

Know You

Crickets and a breeze

blowing through

the trees,

the only sounds

we needed

that cool

summer night.

Do the leaves suffer

as they wilt and fall?

Logical Progression

pages make

the chapter

make the

book.

irrational

your hand touching the wall of a darkened room

searching for the familiar in an unrelenting space

pupils expand as  blood quickens  

fear stands the hairs on your arms

filling in space

spider spinning its web

across the broken glass

the moonlight beaming through

/ hours /

/ hours /

invisible to the touch

we can only measure

passage in the faces 

we see

/ hours /

wherewherewhere

have you all

gone?

RUNON

BLOCKSOFTEXTFREEDFROMTHESEPARATIONOFTHOUGHTWORDSBLEEDINGINTOEACHOTHERINTHESAMESTATEINWHICHTHEYARECREATEDINTHEMINDACONSTANTRIVERWASHINGTHROUGHCLEANSINGWHATMUSTBECOMEPUREAGAIN

There is no ghost here in your void,


just a living memory of the promise


of what could have been.

I have no ghost to give up

just the trailing ends of ambition.

_____

If you are not happy with the narrative it is up to you to write a better one.

I've never been too smart.

I've never been too good at anything.

I've just managed to stick around because
      
I don't know what else to do.

I know it sounds silly to say but

I know thats the truth.

I'd be better off someone else.

I could be an egotist with a sense of modesty.

As the matter for physical forms decay


they are spread back into the elements


and take on new forms. It is then possible


to argue that reincarnation is a fundamental


principle to existence.

Creating A Puddle

I felt it begin to drip out of my ears and down the side

of my neck.

It trickled slowly at first and began to gain the speed of

a small river.

My shirt began to get quite wet but I wasn't sure of

what to do.

It didn't hurt but it was strange to say the least. I think

you'd agree.

I must have been standing there at least a good ten to

fifteen minutes.

When it stopped I looked down at the small pool at

my feet.

I saw memories and faces in ever collected drop on

the ground.

I felt like I had been given a new start as I began to

walk home.

I woke up  and found myself

in a strange place.

The face in the mirror was mine

but it was not the one I have lived in.

It was a past life come back to me.

Stepping into the photograph of a memory

as shapes emerge to fill space and gain

depth and dimensionality.

Past Lives and Future Presence.

shark week

like a

shark

moving

silently

through

water,

my heart

is ready

to strike.

2 Lines To Think About.

Ability does not always dictate passion.


Is it possible to forget the taste of a kiss?

4 rubbish lines

Self-Aware Network.


A restless sense of being that awakens every morning.


Oscar's Wild.


Bear Malling.

One Hot Afternoon Nap

I went to sleep in the middle of the afternoon to the sound of her 

voice singing to me. I could feel the heat growing as the fan

recycled the hot air. A helicopter was outside combing the
neighborhood looking for a man they would find locked in
someone's home. When the police finally cornered him he emerged
from the house with a woman in her mid-40's in his arms. Guns
were drawn, shots were fired. A few bullets hit him in his extremities
while another pierced the flesh just below his heart. The fatal shot
blew off a chunk of his skull and brain matter. She was never quite
the same after that afternoon. Covered in blood and brains she had
been grazed in the leg by one of the officer's bullets, but otherwise
physically unharmed. The story would later make the rounds of the
local news affiliates. When I woke up the shooting had passed.
The afternoon was still hot as police taped up the crime scene. At
least one person would have that afternoon forever seared into memory.

Transitions from person to pure being.

"If you're frightened of dying 
and you're holding on, 
you'll see devils tearing 
your life away.
But if you've made your peace, 
the devils are really angels, 
freeing you from the earth."

The Future Is Stupid

ERASE

your notions 

having to do with 

PAST PRESENT FUTURE

the experiences they seek to represent

fall short of what reality is as it occurs in the

moment imagine time as words spilling out into 

the universe creating every possible thought and sentence

all at once appearing as chaos floating in the ether

Peddling Cliche

Would you like to hear about endless pastures

and how they are like our wild and untamed

years of youth?

Perhaps compare the love and affection I feel

for another to a petaled plant or the sun in some

manner of ascent of descent?

Why barter in cliche when some perfectly unused

combination of words can be found?

All these ghosts in love.

to what end should one follow a dream?

After complete heartbreak and devastation
a strange calmness overtakes you as you
realize you are still breathing.

Ends

We've walked these paths for so long

that seeing the end should be

no surprise.